


Green-Eyed

by bokuaka_slut



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokuaka_slut/pseuds/bokuaka_slut
Summary: Jealousy is a green-eyed snake, sharp gaze peeking through a haze of tinted red that clouds his vision. The girl leans in closer to Bokuto, and he watches her long, manicured fingernails gently trail down Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto immediately freezes. Akaashi blows out a long drag.The green-eyed snake coils tighter.Or Suna makes an offer. Akaashi accepts.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji & Suna Rintarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	Green-Eyed

**Author's Note:**

> good lord forgive me for I have sinned.
> 
> Also, inspired by @illumilen on Twitter!!! Check out the fanart. It’s amazing.

_Oh, beware, my lord, of jealousy!  
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock  
The meat it feeds on.  
_- _Othello_

  
Jealousy is a green-eyed snake, sharp gaze peeking through a haze of tinted red that clouds his vision. The girl leans in closer to Bokuto, and he watches her long, manicured fingernails gently trail down Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto immediately freezes. Akaashi blows out a long drag. 

The green-eyed snake coils tighter.   
  
He doesn’t notice Suna slide in next to him on the balcony until the dark-haired boy is asking him without a glance. “Need another light?”

He holds out his lighter, and the ghost of a _yes_ rests on the tip of Akaashi’s tongue before he thinks better and shakes his head no.

“I’m alright. Thank you.” 

Suna shrugs and tucks away the lighter in his back pocket. For a minute, they just stand there in silence, taking in the cool night air that offers a stark contrast to the overcrowded and sweaty party back inside and the glimmering city of lights underneath. 

Suna begins again. “You know,” he trails, gently tapping the end of his cigarette against the balcony. The ashes crumble and fall. “Bokuto wouldn’t know if someone was flirting with him even if it hit him in the face. He probably doesn’t even realize the chick is into him.”

Akaashi exhales. He knows this. In fact, it’s one of the terribly endearing reasons why he fell so hard so fast for his captain- because Bokuto is ridiculously kind-hearted, if not a bit naive. Still, emotion is not always logic, and though Akaashi rarely expresses anything, the unreadable mask on his face today emanates a chilly anger. Instead, he just hums in response, not trusting himself to speak in case his rage comes spilling out.

“Or you could give him a taste of his own medicine.” Suna casually suggests when his response is met with further silence. He offers the words as if they mean nothing, as if the former Fukurodani setter hadn’t been the star of his lust-fueled fantasies since they met their last year at nationals. Back then, Akaashi was quiet, more withdrawn, more pretty than beautiful. No one had been kinder to Akaashi than time (except maybe Bokuto) , and Suna further realizes this when he steals a second to admire the outline of Akaashi’s features against the night. 

His answer catches Akaashi’s attention, emerald green eyes boring into him with calculated concision as Akaashi realizes the hidden meaning behind his offer. 

Maybe Suna also appreciated the fact that Akaashi matches him in intelligence. There was a lot to like about Akaashi.

For a second, the air is empty save for the slight hum in from the party behind them and the chirp of crickets, desperate for one last song before summer withers away. 

Then, Akaashi speaks, soft, low. A gorgeous timber voice that makes Suna shift to hide the tightness in his pants. “And if I wanted to?” 

Suna tries to mask the shock that flits across his face as he turns to face Akaashi, blowing a puff of smoke into Keiji’s face, admiring when the other boy doesn’t stumble back, but instead takes a step closer to Suna until Suna can count the blue flecks in his eyes. “I don’t mind helping a friend in need.” 

“Oh?” Akaashi cocks an eyebrow. Akaashi’s even prettier up close, features sharper, eyes more enchanting when all Suna has to do is take that leap, lean in until they’re kissing. “A friend? Is that what I am?” 

“The term is up to interpretation.” Tan hands slide onto Akaashi’s hips, like they belong. It feels better than what Suna imagined for the last year, and he draws the setter tighter until the Akaashi can feel _all_ of him. Bokuto’s weighted gaze falls onto them. Suna laughs with glee.

Here’s the thing. Of course he knows Akaashi Keiji is uncommonly beautiful in a haunting sort of way. Pale skin. Sharp features carved in strong angles. Green eyes that bore into him. He feels naked under Akaashi’s gaze, all the layers and masks becoming undone by this human replica of marble. It gives Suna a strange thrill he wants to chase even though they both know it ends in flames, a delicious, utterly consuming destruction that becomes an addiction, flying them to new heights of eye-rolling pleasure, more, more, more. Suna has never been good at saying no.   
  
The air shifts around them, thrumming with untapped energy, winding itself further into instability until it unravels the way Suna imagines Akaashi would- all slow build-ups and gasps and moans. Green eyes stare back in understanding, unblinking and unwavering. There’s a silent invitation to their mutually planned destruction, and Suna is a taker of many things, but when it comes to Akaashi, he can be a fucking saint. Devotion like this is a sin.

Still, Suna lets himself fall. Surrendering to what he shouldn’t feels so good, and when his fingers trail up to cup Akaashi’s cheek, the skin smoother and colder than the most unforgiving of nights, he thinks this is temptation, woven as a lithe reincarnation of ice and seduction that puts gods to the shame.

Akaashi leans in. Suna is flying high. 

“We should go to the bedroom.” Akaashi breathes out. He smells like aftershave and pine with a lingering hint of smoke that makes Suna’s grin as he slips a hand underneath Akaashi’s shirt, tracing and admiring the valleys and ridges of his abs. 

Suna agrees. “Yeah, we should.” He admits, and he tilts his head imperceptibly until he’s suddenly met with Bokuto’s gaze, brimming with a sort of unbridled cold rage that could never be tamed. 

_Bingo._

And just because he can, he tempts the beast further into madness when he tangles his fingers in Akaashi’s hair and pulls _hard._ Eyes gleam at the juxtaposition of the exposed neck, so vulnerable, so for his taking, and he does just that, searing wanting kisses into the soft skin, where neck meets jaw, where curves give way to the planes of collar bones. He gently rolls his hips against Akaashi, eliciting a a soft gasp, and maybe Akaashi moans a little louder than necessary when he notices the same- familiar golden orbs, flaming, burning, a force not to be reckoned with, watch his every move like a predator.

A sudden tug breaks their connection as Suna pulls him towards the bedroom in a barely concealed eagerness that should not be as endearing as it was. 

The party has quickly waned, most people choosing the comfort of their home after a long night of freedom, but there’s enough bodies, sweaty and half-naked, that no one but Bokuto notices them slink inside.

With a mocking smile at the ace, Suna lets his hand trace down Keiji’s spine until it rests on the small of his back. Bokuto grinds his jaw, but he’s surrounded by a crowd of admiring fans and friends. For once, his stardom isn’t as great as it was made out to be, and Suna’s nothing short of a mastermind to play upon this. 

The walk to the bedroom is tantalizing. Suna can’t keep his fingers off the boy next to him, eager, wandering hands that explore everything they can above clothed skin, wonders what Akaashi’s bare skin would feel like underneath him. When they reach an empty room, Suna all but slams Akaashi against the door, tilting it close and pressing in close until their lips are just a breath apart. 

Suna is not a patient man when it comes to Akaashi Keiji.

”Fuck,” he mutters. He admires the sharp features and half-lidded green eyes that scream seduction. “You’re so hot.” 

Akaashi smirks, a soft tilt of the lips that drives him insane because he imagines Akaashi on his knees, pretty face wrecked with his cock between those pink lips, and Suna thinks he almost comes with the image alone. Instead, Akaashi does not give him a blowjob, but wraps a leg around his waist before Suna hooks his fingers underneath and pushes the limb upward, offering him more access to the boy in front. An almost unconscious roll of his hips leaves both of them groaning at the friction, and Suna stares at the mouth that released that moan. Akaashi has full lips. Pink. They look soft. Suna is about to find out.   
  
He weaves a hand through Akaashi’s dark curls and tugs. Hard. Lips tilted like an offering, Suna takes what’s given. He kisses Akaashi Keiji.

It feels like a fucking supernova. Akaashi’s lips are soft, they taste like smoke and mint, and Suna is a gone man, a devoted addict to Keiji. He bites Akaashi’s lower lip, gently soothing it over with a gentle sweep of his tongue before exploring his mouth. Legs hook around his waist. Suna lets his hands rest on the bottom of Akaashi’s ass as he carries them to the bed. 

“Shirt-“ Akaashi gasps out in between pants of air. “Off.”   
  
Suna is more than happy to comply, like a puppet and its master. Tugging his shirt off, reveling in the way Akaashi’s eyes fog with lust as they trace the dips and curves of his muscles, Suna does the same to Akaashi, taking a moment to admire his lean physique before brushing a tongue against a nipple. The setter has a body of an Olympian, and Suna intends to worship it for as long as he can. 

He slips off and begins kissing down Akaashi’s body, trailing across his jaw and then his chest and then the dip of his hip, so close to where Suna wants to be. Instead, he leaves marks, chuckling at Akaashi’s enthusiasm when the setter pushes his head further into the small spot of his neck, gloating at the way Bokuto’s eyes will darken when he sees Suna’s little presents. Akaashi is a moaning, writhing mess underneath him. The first hints of sweat are starting to build up, the combined scent of them fills the room. It’s addicting. 

Suna thinks he’s never been this hard before, so hard it hurts. Akaashi’s a fucking tease, he realizes with a gasp, when the other boy gently bites the bottom of his ear, cold, thin fingers rubbing circles on his waist. It sets off something in him- a need to dominate- and he pushes Akaashi roughly back into the mattress, one hand slithering up to squeeze his neck, the other finding it’s way to Akaashi’s mouth before two fingers dip in, and Akaashi sucks on them so good, hooded green eyes never leaving Suna’s, and Suna almost comes right there. Akaashi Keiji is insanely talented with his mouth. He shouldn’t be surprised. Grinding into him, whispering dirty nothings into his ear- how good he feels, how hard Suna is going to take him. The room becomes them, pine and smoke and citrus, and their cracked voices and soft gasps fill the air. 

The door slams open. 

“Keiji.” Bokuto’s voice is ice cold, not a hint of warmth underneath the pure, unadulterated rage. Suna’s never seen the bright, optimistic ace so dark. 

Akaashi meets his eyes. Suna’s worship has come to an end, and reluctantly, he pulls himself off Akaashi, taking one last hard glance to admire the beauty of the body in front of him, all hard angles and lithe muscle. His cock twitches.

In front of him, Bokuto crosses his arms, wary golden eyes tracking his every breath. If he wanted to, Bokuto could knock him out cold, and it’s only Akaashi’s warning gaze that stops Bokuto from following through.   
  
That doesn’t stop Suna, though, from brushing past the pro-athlete, pausing to whisper.

”Your boyfriend’s got a talented mouth. Thanks for sharing.” 

Bokuto clenches his fist, almost swings his right arm, but seems to calm down at the last second so that Suna’s only punishment is a harsh shove before the door locks with a click behind him. 

His phone buzzes, breaking his thoughts before they can even start. 

_Miya Osamu (1:14 a.m.) - Gotta take Tsumu back. He’s drunk. Text me when your home._

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Suna slinks towards the door, the sounds of Akaashi’s moans of _Bokuto_ ringing in his ears until he reaches the train station. 

The train ride home is quiet. There’s not many people, just a drunk couple and an old businessman on his phone. The tunnels are dark, but when they ride outside, the moonlight filters through. Suna stares at the sky. Slowly, the train comes to a screeching halt, and he hops off, walking to his nineteenth floor apartment, sliding the key in, wiggling it until the door unlocks and he falls into bed. 

In the darkness, it’s so easy to surrender to the urges of his mind, easy to remember the consequences of his actions.

_Sea green eyes, half-lidded with seduction. A pretty face and taunting smirk._

His hand slips under the waistline of his pants, almost unconscious from the sheer number of timed he’s done this.

 _The soft skin of Akaashi’s ass, so easy for Suna to run his hands over, admire, worship._

Warm fingers wrap around the head. A single tug. It feels great. He imagines it’s Akaashi’s fingers. It feels even better.

_Warm mouth pressed against his jaw. A gentle trail of kisses._

Another tug.

_Pink lips molded against him, choking, begging, swallowing when he comes. Suna pumping Akaashi’s dick once then twice, watching the ecstasy on his face. Akaashi moans, the sound is a gift._

A pressure beginning to build up in the pit of his stomach. 

_His name - **Suna** \- leaving Akaashi’s mouth as he slams into him, unyielding, unforgiving, desperate. Akaashi coming on his cock. He imagines marking Akaashi, memorizing him, making him his.   
_

Suna comes hard, white blinding his vision.

He opens his eyes, lays there, panting, green eyes still haunting him, but now he know what they look like staring up at him in lust. 

His devotion never falters. He’ll worship Akaashi like he’s never sinned, like Akaashi isn’t Bokuto’s, and when he ends up in hell, he’ll chant the name like a prayer, the purest of saints for the worst of sins.


End file.
